28 days.
I’ve heard it takes 28 days to break a habit.
28 days to start fresh.
Start anew.
It takes 28 days to transform a person.
But I must be different—no—I am different. Because it’s been 28 days since I’ve learned Dr. Watson, I mean Elijah is my husband. It’s been 28 days since he started treating me, trying to jog my memory. And it’s been 28 days of hopeless sessions, frustrated growls, and weary sighs. My memories are ivory eggs that cannot be cracked.
Or at least this is all what I’ve been led to believe or what I’ve been told.
I’ve started to notice something about Oakhill, too. I’ve started to notice that it bleeds people dry, but not of blood, of hope.
When you first are brought here, you have this will about you. I had it when I first arrived. I convinced myself that I wasn’t crazy. I told myself that I would find a way out. That’d I’d escape. Those thoughts are long gone now. I know with certainty that I won’t get out of here twice, so I’ve accepted my fate and that’s that.
I sit in the rec with Aurora while she colors. She’s humming some show tune, but I’m used to her humming. It’s almost soothing now, comforting. Her singing, now that’s a different story. Merilee Winters stands at the large glass plated window and stares out into the courtyard. It’s winter. There’s no sign of life. Everything’s dead. Including most of the patients living here.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Merilee chants along with the hands of the clock hanging on the wall. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
“Merilee’s acting particularly nutty today,” I mention to Aurora.
Without lifting her eyes from the coloring book Aurora answers, “Yeah. Electroshock.”
My eyes drop to her petite, dainty fingers as they scribble various colors across the pages. “When?” I gasp.
“Yesterday. I saw them haul her away.”
Maybe I’ve been here so long that I’ve managed to tune out the flickering lights and vibrating walls. And all the screams from the patients blend together anymore. It’s like the score for a motion picture. “Why?”
Aurora shrugs. “She smuggled a fork from the cafeteria. Put it in her underwear. Then during morning meds tried to stab Marjorie with it.”
“But, why?” Merilee is definitely crazy, but she’s never been dangerous.
“I think they’ve fried her brain, one too many times.” The certainty in her tiny voice startles me.
Chills me to the bone.
I start to shiver and then pump warmth back into my arms.
“You’ll never have to worry about that though,” Aurora gazes up at me through her lashes, a flicker of disdain in her chocolate eyes.
I glare at her and drop my hands to my sides. “Why do you say that?”
Aurora sets down a black crayon, tilts her head to the side, and narrows her eyes into slits. Then her eyes drift toward the open doorway. “Because you have your own personal knight in shining armor.”
Turning slowly I cast a glance at the doorway to see Elijah propped up against the frame. The muscles in his biceps bulge as he crosses his arms and nods at me.
~ ~ ~
The metronome needle sways back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
A gentle ticking cuts into the quiet and I swear I can feel the slow beat from the medical instrument throbbing in my temples.
Dr. Watson, I mean Elijah sits across from me with a penetrating gaze and his hands folded on top of his desk. “Open your mind, Adelaide.” His voice is gentle yet firm.
But what he doesn’t understand is that I’m trying, but I can’t.